


The Camouflaged Wallet

by SamanthaSeraphimandI



Category: Ranger's Apprentice - John Flanagan
Genre: Fluff and Humor, Gen, Humorous Ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-18
Updated: 2019-02-18
Packaged: 2019-10-31 03:40:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,027
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17841761
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SamanthaSeraphimandI/pseuds/SamanthaSeraphimandI
Summary: Shortly after Will becomes a full King's Ranger, he attends the annual Gathering of the Kingdom's Ranger Corps. On his way there, Will discovers that his wallet-a graduation gift from his friend, Jenny-has fallen out.He desperately races against time to find the wallet and his earnings, along with Alyss' letter before the other Rangers can find him and learn of the woe that has befallen their newest member.





	The Camouflaged Wallet

Will Treaty was a brave man.

Most would agree with that statement, and yet on days like today, this statement’s truth was cast into doubt.

Will shuffled uncomfortably through another hedge of wild bushes, squinting at the forest floor. While he could face down Temujai warriors, endure incalculable hardships as a Skandian slave, and willingly give his life in the call of duty, Will the Ranger was not _completely_ invulnerable, as hard as that was for the masses to believe.

For there are few things in life that inspire more fear then one’s own mentor.

As the shadows grew longer, Will grew more and more anxious. If he couldn’t find that damned thing before the evening festivities began, Halt would-

“Greetings, fellow Ranger.”

Will straightened so quickly that his back popped. Hand on his sax knife, he turned to face his compatriot.

“Hello, Gilan.”

The other young man grinned, dropping his pretense of seriousness. He was older then Will by a good five years, and, unlike other Rangers, carried a sword in addition to his longbow and knives.

“Why, Will, what’s gotten into you?” Gilan asked playfully. “It’s the Gathering. Time to relax.”

Will actually growled a little. “It is _not_ time to relax, Gilan. Rangers come to the Gathering to show off whenever there isn’t a mission or immediate peril to deal with. Which _means_ -“

“That you need to _calm down_.” Gilan said, somewhat forcibly. Adopting a kinder tone, he added: “Really, Will you’re acting like this is life or death; it’s just a game!”

Will grimaced and looked away. Gilan’s teasing smile faded. “Will? What’s the matter?”

“…I lost something.”

Gilan’s face looked blank. As well he should. Rangers had few worldly possessions, and almost none of them were terribly valuable. Annoying to lose, perhaps, but replaceable. Will’s face, however, suggested that such was not the case.

“I only just got it, and Halt will _kill_ me-“

Gilan blanched. “My god Will; you _lost_ your oakleaf?!”

“My what?” Will asked confusedly.

“Your silver oak-“

“No, no! You’ve got it all wrong, Gilan that’s not what I lost. I…” Will grimaced again.

“Alright; so you haven’t lost your badge. So what _have_ you lost that’s so important? Not your longbow, I hope?” Gilan added, a last attempt at humor.

Will gave a short laugh. “No; it’s back there with Tug,” he said, jerking his thumb at the mess of bushes behind him. “The truth is, Gilan, that I’ve lost-I’ve lost my wallet.”

There was a pause.

Then Gilan laughed incredulously. “Will your _wallet_? Really?! You’re a tracker! You should find it easily-“

“Gilan; you don’t understand.”

“Clearly. You look like Horace died and it was your fault somehow.”

“I do not.”

“Yes; actually you kind of do.”

“…. whatever.”

“ _Anyway_ ,” Gilan said, trying to steer the conversation back. “Why are you so upset about the wallet?”

Will took a deep breath. “Firstly, it has all my earnings in it.” (Gilan winced.)

“Second, it has a letter from Alyss.” (Gilan winced harder.)

Will sighed and raised his eyes to the shifting leaves above them.

“And…? What’s your third ‘point of woe’?”

Will closed his eyes again and ground out: “Thirdly, and most importantly: It’s camouflaged.”

 

 

All in all, it had not been a fun day. Gilan’s yearly ambush for Halt had been hopeless from the start (long story; not explaining it now); his saddle was still wet from the storm the day before, and so it squeaked whenever he moved. Also, Blaze hated wet weather. (Gilan tended to agree with his horse on such matters. It was a Ranger thing.) Not to mention that Gilan had inexplicably come down with a fierce case of the trots.

But all that Gilan could shrug off if he put enough effort in. Plus, it wasn’t in his nature to allow such things to get him down. As such, he had enjoyed the opportunity to sneak up on Will; a feat that had proven all too easy.

Now, however, he was starting to regret having come at all. The daylight had died at least a half an hour before, and as a result, Gilan and Will had to stoop low to the ground in order to search for the errant wallet.

“Are you _sure_ that you crossed this creek here, Will?” Gilan called, trying to hide the irritation in his voice.

Something rustled to his right and Tug appeared, sniffing at the ground.

“Good to see that you’re taking a hand, too.” Gilan grumbled at the horse.

Tug snuffled at him.

“It’s not _my_ fault Will lost that wallet.”

The shaggy little horse whinnied and stamped his front hoof.

“Yes, of course I’m sure!”

Gilan almost jerked with surprise as Will finally answered from across a copse of trees. The older Ranger sighed and edged over to a tree. “He’s starting to talk with your voice,” he muttered at Tug. “It’s disturbing.”

Tug huffed and stomped again, bobbing his head. Gilan looked at him quizzically. Tug normally didn’t act like this. On the other hand, Gilan hadn’t seen him in a while. But Will hadn’t said anything, and it made him nervous to see the little horse acting so queerly. Ranger horses were trained to give warning to their masters, but Tug’s snuffling and whinnying were not-

Oh dear.

Gilan ducked back into the shadows, pulling the cowl of his mottled cloak down even further. Within seconds, he had disappeared entirely into the shadowy forest. After waiting a few moments, Gilan quietly drew in an extra breath and let it out, carefully modulating his voice so as not to be too loud.

A whippoorwill called softly in the night’s early shadows.

Ten meters away, Will froze as he heard the alarm call. Then slid soundlessly into a hollow bole of an ancient tree.  He too disappeared. Only his eyes could be seen as he peeked out every few minutes, glinting like a pair of night-dwelling insects.

Minutes passed.

Minutes turned into a half hour. The half hour grew steadily into an hour.

Will was starting to think about chancing a peek, but his pride prevented it. If he came out and some other Ranger caught him, he’d never hear the end of it. Instead Will concentrated on breathing slowly and evenly, listening for any sign from the outside. He moved his right hand slowly, millimeter by millimeter off the rotting wood of the tree’s bole.

Once that was accomplished, he had little else to do.

He wondered what Gilan was doing. Probably counting leaves in a bush, he thought. Gailin might be good at sneaking, but he was not so good at waiting.

The wind whispered. The bugs crawled. And the night dragged on.

Will thought of his wallet. It was probably sitting mere feet from him. Damn. It looked like he and Halt wouldn’t be going back to Redmont tomorrow. He had been planning to go with his former mentor to the city to have a good time. Maybe see his old wardmates. Have lunch with Horace.

Will grimaced. He didn’t want Halt to find out that not only could not he pay his own way, he had lost the wallet Halt had specifically advised him not to use. He certainly did not want to admit that he had realized too late that Jenny’s gift of a wallet ‘made just for him’ had been an elaborately simple prank.

Will silently swore never to underestimate his “simple” cook friend again.

 

 

Gilan sighed.

Unfortunately, he had not been ‘counting leaves in a bush’. While he _was_ in a bush, he was doing something else with the leaves.

He grimaced again. Curse his foolishness in coming. Curse whoever he had gotten this disease from, and most importantly, curse Will’s wallet!

Gilan closed his eyes and resisted the urge to sigh again. Whoever Tug had been trying to greet by his whinnying and stomping could probably smell him.

It was starting to stink in his bush.

He hoped that this would stop soon. The only reason that he had decided to come to the Gathering despite his…current problem was that he had thought that he was on the tail end of the darn thing.

Unfortunately, it just had to happen again. Gilan wondered if any of his compatriots had ever had to deal with a similar situation when actually on mission. He frowned. Losing one’s life and failing one’s King because of a bunch of literal crap was not how he hoped get into the history books.

Suddenly Gilan stiffened. He could have sworn that he had heard a noise from behind him.

A snuffling sound.

Was it Tug? No, the little horse had moved away. Actually, he had crossed the stream and was standing to Gilan’s left.

So that was not it. Unless he had imagined it. Which was possible. The gurgling of the water made it hard to be sure, and he was somewhat occupied with something else-

A gray and brown shape hurtled out of a severely abused bush, yelling something about crows. Recovering himself, Gilan landed, rolled neatly, and came up with his sax knife in hand. He glared up at the other man, trying to maintain a fierce countenance.

Crowley (for so it was) was laughing so hard that he could barely speak. “You….no wonder….Halt…find you…poor, poor soul!”

“I-COULD-NOT-HELP-IT!” Shouted Gilan, brandishing his sax knife ineffectively.

Crowley giggled. “Oh, come on Gilan there’s no point to it if no one gets to laugh at your predicament!”

Gilan glared silently.

Crowley tried for a placating smile.

Judging by Gilan’s stony silence and menacing flicks of the bright blade in his hand, Crowley was unsuccessful.

Thankfully for the Ranger Commandant Will arrived on the scene before Gilan could make good on his unspoken threats.

“Hi, Crowley.” Will said, seeming to materialize from thin air. He looked confusedly at the two older Rangers: Easy-going Gilan staring literal daggers at Crowley, his superior. Who normally was very good with people, especially those under him.

“So…what’s happening?”

 

 

Eventually-after unnecessarily lengthy explanations had been made-all three Rangers had the whole picture.

Which was more than Will really wanted, but oh well…

Apparently, while Gilan had done an excellent job of hiding his...erm, problem from Will, he had had the bad luck to stumble into Crowley’s secret listening post. Well, onto.

Crowley had built the thing years ago and-if anything-the underground booth had actually improved with age. The boards that made up the roof had cured remarkably well, and the leaves and other detritus that had built up had only served to make it even more difficult to find.

As such, it had become a Gathering tradition to try and find the Commandant’s special listening post. As far as Will knew, no one had had any luck (not even Halt). Probably because they hadn’t thought that it would be underground.

Until Gilan had become in desperate need of a bathroom.

“And what were you two doing out here in the first place? You should have come in from the north, Will. What were you doing down here with Gilan?” Crowley asked, wisely changing the subject.

“Well…” Began Will, only to have Gilan rescue him.

“I sent a message ahead,” he said brusquely “Thought that I might want the company.” He finished, aiming a long look at Crowley.

“Ah. Well, I’d best be getting on.” The Commandant said tactfully. “I’ll have to make sure the new apprentices haven’t tied themselves up in their own bowstrings or some such. Oh, and Will?”

“Yes?”

“I think Halt’s looking for you. Heard him a while back asking Fletcher-“

“We have a Ranger named ‘Fletcher’?

“…it’s his last name, alright?”

“Fine, fine.”

“ _Anyway_ , Halt’s looking for you. And I’d like for you to help the new apprentices hone their shooting technique.”

Will nodded, and Crowley gave them a flick of the wrist that passed for a salute before disappearing into the gloom.

Once he was sure that their superior was gone, Will turned to Gilan. “You can go on to the Gathering Ground if you want.”

Gilan sighed. “No, I couldn’t. I don’t want to pull a stunt like that again. What if it happened during an archery challenge?”

“…right.”

There was an awkward pause.

“Well, I should go see where Blaze has got to. I think that _she_ thinks _I’ve_ lost my mind. Running off into the woods for no reason whatsoever.” Gilan grimaced. Then he added: “It’ll be alright, Will. He’ll be mad, but you’ll be alright. Not to mention that-since it was from Alyss-you probably have that letter memorized; right matey?”

Will blushed and looked away. Sadly, he couldn’t think of a witty retort for that one. When he looked around again, Gilan was gone.

 

 

It was getting on toward midnight when Will finally dragged himself into the circle of firelight. The other Rangers were laughing and trading stories around the campfire in the center of the Gathering clearing. His neck muscles were sore from looking over his shoulder every few seconds, his eyes were dry from squinting at the ground, and he was absolutely famished. Will quietly slipped through the crowd of cowls, looking for Gilan. In all honesty, he was hoping that Halt wasn’t with him. He wasn’t ready to tell his former mentor of his plight. His stomach cringed as he thought of the large sum in sovereigns that was just sitting out there in the forest.

Finally, he spotted his friend and made a beeline through the crowd. He hoped that when Halt found him, he’d be kind enough not to pry about what had kept Will away from the festivities so long.

Gilan grinned and slapped him on the back. “There you are Will! I was wondering where you’d got to.”

Will smiled and returned the greeting in a tired voice.

His friend smiled and added: “Oh, there’s still some food over there, if you want it.”

Will’s face immediately brightened. “Thanks; Gilan! I owe you.”

Gilan laughed. “Forget about it. I know what it’s like to be young and famished. I wasn’t always old and bony, you know.”

Will forced a laugh and went over to the opposite end of the clearing. He envied his friend’s easy confidence. While Will might be able to fool strangers, he was no good when it came to hiding things from his friends.

The sight of the low wooden table set up with a few platters of cold things lifted his spirits somewhat. Trying to set aside the gnawing anxiety in his gut, Will descended on the food like a famished wolf. He was about halfway through the leftover chicken when he felt a firm hand on his shoulder. Will hastily finished chewing and wiped his face on the back of his hand before turning around.

Halt looked down at him, his face unreadable in the dancing light of the bonfire. Will grinned and spread out his arms. “Halt! It’s great to see you!”

Halt looked unconvinced. Will lowered his arms. “Halt? What is it? I haven’t seen you for three months,”

Still Halt’s face was unchanged.

Will visibly drooped. “Halt? Did you…hear something?”

The gray-haired man stayed unmoving for a few more minutes. Then the corner of his mouth began to move.

Will started, then frowned. Coming from Halt, a smile of that size was the equivalent of a hardy guffaw. Sufficed to say, such expressions were rare, and he honestly had trouble knowing what to make of them. “I heard you brought that wallet Jenny made you,” the older man said.

Will was suddenly aware that a good number of the other Rangers were looking their way. He quickly melted into his cowl. Not meeting Halt’s eyes, he said: “I… _kind of_ brought it, Halt.”

There was a pause. Will couldn’t see Halt’s face. He wondered how Halt had found out. Then again, that wouldn’t help him much.

“…you _kind of_ brought it. As opposed to, say, bringing it all the way?”

Will studied the ground. He suddenly found that there were a lot of fascinating trails down there…

There was a sharp bark of laughter.

Will froze. Was Halt actually _laughing_?

Suddenly he felt something being shoved into the folds of his cloak, around where his hands were. Something small but heavy. Blinking owlishly from tiredness, Will looked down at Halt’s arm.

“…I believe that this is yours?”

Will stared at his friend’s hand. Secure in the calloused fingers was a palm-sized, folded piece of fabric.

Before he could take it, he found himself wrapped securely in a pair of arms. Gilan laughed into his ear while Halt gently placed the camouflaged wallet on the table next to Will’s plate. Gilan then explained that after he had gone to find Blaze after the incident with Crowley, he had decided to take a meandering route back to the Gathering clearing.

Blaze seemed to have other ideas, however. Too tired and bothered at that point to argue, Gilan had let her have free rein and soon he was back in the company of Tug. As soon as the two Ranger horses had finished their greetings, Tug had trotted off purposefully. Naturally, Blaze followed with a resigned Gilan on her back. Before long the little party had stopped in a glade downstream of Will, and Tug had then planted himself over a seemingly random patch of leaf-litter. Curious and hardly daring to hope, Gilan dismounted. Sure enough, there was the little camouflaged piece of refuse. Before he could turn back to find Will, Halt had found him and he just couldn’t resist giving Will a good scare for his trouble.

“And so,” Gilan grinned as he finished his story, “you don’t owe me anything. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to go. Enjoy yourself.”

Gilan waved and loped off towards the tree line.

Halt raised an eyebrow at his former apprentice’s retreating figure. “He gets weirder every year.” He said finally, in perfect deadpan.

Will laughed and grabbed the plate of fruit that was set out. “Come on, Halt. Let’s go see how everyone’s getting on.”

 

 

 

The End


End file.
